


Band of the Wolf

by Medical_Grade_Silver



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Black Swordsman & Black Witch AU, Canon Divergence - Post-Eclipse, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medical_Grade_Silver/pseuds/Medical_Grade_Silver
Summary: A canon divergent story with one simple premise: after the Eclipse, Casca does not revert to a child-like state. Rather, her mental scars show themselves in much more... subtle ways. The question remains, though, for Guts and Casca alike:Where do they go from here?





	1. Return to (Living)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. As a reminder, this story is heavily canon divergent! From this chapter on, we won't be following too closely the main plot. Thank you for your understanding.

For the first time, he did not feel as if he were shivering to pieces. He awoke, sitting up, and immediately felt something was off. It was an echoing agony, a pain clearly dulled by medication and the mercy of days having passed for his body to adjust to this new normal, but it spoke of memories that now came flooding back. The Eclipse, his fellow sacrifices, and--

“CASCA?!” He stood, feeling his fresh wound groan and threaten to tear open anew. “Casca!”

“Guts, calm down,” called a familiar voice.

Trembling in anticipation and near foaming at the mouth already, the mountain of a man looked down a little familiar face. Rickert—back from the dead? This whole time, he’d thought… When the rest of the band was wiped out, before the traitor finished the job, he’d been sure…!

No matter. A small mercy from a cruel world. He turned to Rickert, comforted mildly. “Where’s Casca?”

“I’m here.”

It might as well have been the sun climbing a hill top to shining down, chasing away the horrors and cold of a harsh winter night. As Casca rounded the corner, herself no longer wrapped in bandages but sporting shallow, faint scars, still laced with lingering red but beginning to fade into a soft beige several shades lighter than her dark brown skin. But, she was here, and that was enough for Guts. He stood, walking over to her, arm out.

There were no words as she looked at him, not moving an inch to enter his embrace.

“… Casca?”

She frowned, looking off. “I… I can’t touch you, now, sorry. A-Anyone’s touch… It feels...” She wrapped her arms around herself, furrowing her brows into anger and shutting her eyes. “I still--!”

“I understand.” Though it hurt to be denied comfort after what they’d just gone through, for now, Guts could wait. After all, they both knew each other’s past concerning this. Maybe she just needed time. He hoped she only needed time. “Could you come sit with me?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, returning to him, mentally.

“I’ve still gotta catch Guts up on the situation,” Rickert suggested. “Erica, could you try serving them some food?”

“Uh-huh!” Erica grinned, pouring out servings of thin soup. Though there were chunks of meat and a few carrots, it was clearly meant to be easy to digest.

“So… Casca already knows, but, Guts, the two of you...” Looking off, the boy began to explain. The tornado, the ghastly savior on the deathly horse, Casca’s return and extreme anguish, the efforts to mend Guts’s incredible wounds, and… the issue of Casca's seemingly unending bleeding.

“Father knows of a wise midwife in the next town over that may be able to help. But, until you two have your strength back fully, continue to rest in this mine,” Erica encouraged.

“Thank you, for all of this,” Guts said softly. “But, for now, could we…?”

“Certainly. We’ll be just in the building outside of here—you shouldn’t come out until morning, though. The animals have seem particularly agitated, lately.” Rickert gave one last fond look to Casca and Guts alike before he and Erica took their leave.

“… So, what do we do, from here?” Guts asked.

“How should I know? I’m not your general anymore,” Casca grunted.

The massive man deflated a bit. “No, but...” They were—something? Had been something. On the cusp of it, at least, rolling the ball on how to get the path paved with the two of them. Before, they’d been agreement to be together. And, now, as the sole survivors outside of Rickert within the Band of the Hawk and the only true survivors of the Eclipse, it felt, somehow, more vital that there was a label to this bond between them. “… There was a time when we agreed to go off together, before… all of this.”

“… I remember.” She sighed, putting her head into her hands. “Let’s just see the midwife first. What she says… is going to determine everything.”

That was scary. How awful, to have made it through the ordeals of the Eclipse, and then to be threatened with the lingering after-effects potentially bringing her down regardless. Guts felt himself going crazy with worry over it. What could he do…? Casca had to be fine. She had to be. He’d raze the whole world to its foundations if she was not.

“For now… let’s rest. Tomorrow, we should practice our swordplay. Godot has no horses for us to borrow and he’s warned the travel would take four days by foot in good state. I don’t know how well my endurance will be in this state, and every night extra on the road is another night we’ll be dealing with bandits.”

“No,” Guts insisted, hearing her plans. “I’ll train. You just focus on keeping on the mend. You’re losing blood, aren’t you? You’re no good when you’re… like that.”

“Is that all you think it is?” she asked, recalling what he was—the time she’d been especially fevered thanks to her womanly burden (her monthly, wretched and bloody as it was; a gift she’d certainly never asked _anyone_ for) and had heavily upon him for safety and health. “Guts...” She looked him seriously in the eye. “I was hurt. Deeply, inside of me.”

His broken expression made it clear he already knew, but that he was hoping something else was the answer. “… It’ll be fine. It has to be.”

“… I hope so.” Grabbing one of the bundles of straw left to help make their bedding for the night, Casca put it down between their respective sleeping places. “I’m not ready for touch, but I would like you near me.”

Guts looked elated. Wordlessly, like an excited puppy, he wriggled as close as he could to the bundle of straw between them. Close to her, both of them safe and sound! IT was enough for now.

* * *

* * *

The metal prosthetic still felt heavy on his arm, but he was growing used to its weight. Though he’d lost his old, heavy iron sword, Godot had been kind enough to outfit him and Casca with two new swords on the condition that they come back when they could to make sure Erica and Rickert were doing well.

“Remember, the midwife won’t expect payment up front, but it would be good if you could see about rounding up coin regardless. It’d be a shame to get trapped there in debt,” Godot warned.

“There’ll likely be a few brazen bandits to return the favor to,” Guts mused.

“We won’t get too brash,” Casca quickly assured. She looked up to Guts. “Right?”

“We won’t do anything unnecessary.”

“I should hope not,” Godot added. “Well, be off. And, hurry back in good health!”

“Goodbye, be safe!” Erica called as Guts and Casca began to walk off.

Rickert watched it all quietly. He’d been with Godot and Erica too long to feel that he wanted to chase after Guts and Casca, but still… After seeing them in so long and in such poor state, there was a bittersweet melancholy about it all.

He hoped this would not be their last meeting, at any rate.

* * *

* * *

The fire burned low, out of view of the road by a little crop of rocks. A stolen tarp and supplies made their shoddy campsite. Sundown on their first night of journeying, and, true to expectations, sly bandits had thought they could take the duo. And, true to Guts’s worries, Casca was slightly hindered by her condition. She only slayed two bandits while Guts took on the remaining eight.

“Forty-seven, forty-eight… Forty-nine copper pieces,” Casca said, finishing her counting. “That’s… just under five silver.” She huffed. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough get medicine… but it’s a start.”

“I’ll get the rest next time we get jumped,” Guts assured. “You just worry about staying behind me.”

Casca looked at him over her shoulder, glaring mildly. "What’s been with you laaa—AA, GUTS!”

Looking behind him, Guts just barely avoided a vicious kick from… Well. He didn’t know what it was. It was like a horse and like a man, distorted and glowering. The tied up horses they’d taken from the bandits began braying and kicking, terrified and desperate. But, the horse-beast had cracked the rock near where Guts had been reclining, which made it an enemy.

“Stay back!” He grabbed his sword, glowering at the strange monster. “I’ll take off its head!” Grunting, he rushed forward, beheading the monster swiftly. “Die!”

Casca, likewise, took up her own sword. While there had been only one horse-esque atrocity upon them, monstrous bodies that looked suspiciously like bits of their would be assailants from earlier rose up.

“What on earth…! What on EARTH?!” Casca cried as she struck one in its chest, undoubtedly piercing its heart, and it did not fall.

“Shit… It’s just like back then…!”

** _< INDEED. IT IS. >_ **

Glancing over, Guts saw a familiar face cleaving down some of the previous enemies.

** _< LOOK AT YOUR ENEMIES. THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU. >_ **

Right. Focus. “Casca, try the the head!” he called as he rushed over to help her.

“No shit!” She swung true, stabbing the strange creature right in the eye. As she did, the body collapsed, a wisp of something white and foggy disappearing into the night air.

Sticking close by Casca out of protectiveness, Guts looked up towards the Skull Knight. A low burn he hadn’t yet acknowledged ached on his neck. When he touched it, his hand drew back bloody. “… What on earth is happening?”

**_< YOU WERE BRANDED FOR SACRIFICE. NEITHER THE DARK SPIRITS OF THE NIGHT NOR THE APOSTLES HAVE FORGOTTEN THIS. BE GRATEFUL FOR THE PAIN; IT IS AN EARLY WARNING OF THEIR PRESENCE, >_** the Skull Knight explained.

“This mark… It’s forever?!” Casca asked.

**_< UNTIL DEATH, >_** Skull Knight answered. **_< AND, DO NOT WISH FOR THAT, OR ELSE YOUR VERY SOUL WILL BE DAMNED TO THE STREAM THE OTHERS DOOMED BY THE GODHANDS ARE SUCKED INTO. >_**

A quiet passed over both.

** _< WORRY NOT. YOU, WHO HAVE STRUGGLED, AND YOU, WHO HAVE SUFFERED, FOR YOU TWO… THERE MAY BE AN ESCAPE FROM THIS FATE-- >_ **

“Shut up.”

Casca looked over as Guts spoke.

** _< --IF YOU CAN UNDO THE GODHANDS’ DESIGN. IT IS A FIGHT UPHILL, AGAINST THE VERY FORCES OF THIS WORLD, BUT PERHAPS, YOU TWO-- >_ **

“SHUT UP!” Guts snapped his sword towards the Skull Night. “Fate this, Godhands that! I’m sick of it!” He nearly put his hand around Casca, but she danced out of his grasp. It hurt, a tangible reminder of what had happened, of why he was angry, so he grew only even more furious. “Fuck whoever gets in the way of us! Fate, god, every apostle from that shithole of a place! I’ll tear ‘em to pieces of they ever show their faces again! Our goals are for us, not a part of their plan!”

The woman remained quiet.

**_< … RETAIN THAT ENERGY, STRUGGLER. YOU WILL NEED IT. BUT, I MUST BE OFF. I WARN YOU BOTH—WHEN THE SUN SETS, YOUR TRIALS BEGIN. >_** The Skull Knight’s mount began walking into the dark. **_< LIVE SO THAT WE MIGHT MEET AGAIN. >_**

As they were, briefly, left alone again, Guts grunted, sitting. “… Fuck. This is gonna mess with our travel plans.”

“Not really,” Casca argued. “We’ll move by night and rest by day. We’ll use the horses for bait, if we need. All we have to do is keep ourselves and some coins safe. Everything else aside from that can be cast away until we reach the midwife.”

“Right,” Guts agreed. Aside from his own desires for her company, Guts was glad Casca had come along. He was sure he would have made more impulsive decisions without her good leadership.

* * *

* * *

The journey took five nights and the horses were not even kept through the first. Some bait they made—they got possessed so easily! But, after two more encounters with bandits, one set of which had particularly earned Guts’s ire with their targeting of Casca for her—to quote dead men’s words--”rare good looks,” the duo were now in possession of sixty-three copper and fifteen silver coins.

“Our next goal is to absolutely see if anyone can do anything about the draw of the marks,” Casca grumbled.

“Definitely,” Guts grunted in agreement. The endless fighting was getting to him. Exhaustion weighed heavily on both of them.

Reaching up, Casca patted the top of Guts’s head. “Thank you, by the way. For all of your hard work. You’re still a fool who can’t help bleeding over me, but… Well...” She looked down. “… For now, I have to rely on that.”

Guts smiled. “I’m happy to do it.” He lifted his own hand, wanting to touch her in turn, but…

She thought about it. Then, slowly, she took his hand in her own. She trembled. “This is… still hard. But, if you warn me—if you talk to me first… I think… I can do this much.”

Nine days after the Eclipse, and she could hold his hand and stand by him. For now, for Guts, this was enough. They could get through this, couldn’t they? Surely. There was no direction, no goal, and nearly no hope… Except what they could see immediately before them.

They were each other’s torches in the dark horror of the world after the Eclipse. All they could see were each other’s wounds and grope, nearly blind, for a way to heal them. Maybe they’d never see the world in the same brilliant light they had before that day. But, for now, this was enough.

Hand in hand, Casca and Guts walked into the town of the midwife. It was time to see what could be done about Casca’s unending bleeding.


	2. Earning a (Living)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This arc is definitely mostly going to be about resolving the issue of the Demon Child / Moonlight Boy as he'll exist in this fanfic. Bonus! He's named, but it'll only be spoken once or twice so far. Keep an eye out for that!

It was fall and that meant the harvest. The roads of this town were soaked in the pale blue-and-yellow light of early dawn. Casca and Guts were both exhausted as they walked, though they took a moment to appreciate the sheaves of wheat and rye hung all around the buildings.

“Hello, strangers!” greeted a man, grinning widely at the duo. “It’s uncommon that we get travelers. What’s your business here?”

“We’re looking for Granny Laura,” Casca quickly said.

The man nodded. “I see… She’s very important to us, so I hope you’ll forgive me, but what’s your business with her?”

Guts frowned, fist flexing and nearly drawing his sword. These people weren’t enemies, though. But, still…! Holding up his and Casca’s journey for even one more moment…! “My--” Well, shit. He looked over at Casca. What was she? His… lover? Girlfriend? Uhhhhh.

The man seemed to sense Guts’s protective nature on top of the ambiguity of their relationship. He frowned and crossed his arms, huffing. "You should really do right by this lady of yours, fella. But, you’re taking responsibility, so I can’t berate you too much.” He grinned after. “Impulsive young love…! Can’t begrudge that too much. The end of the war’s made everyone a little wild.”

Neither spoke, shifting impatiently.

“Oh, right, right. I’ll take you to Granny Laura. Sorry, have to be careful. Bandits have been trying to raid us amid our harvest, and while that ox they stole is very important, it’s even more important that we keep Granny Laura safe and sound. We’re expecting more children this winter!”

Hearing this, Casca placed a hand on her belly. She thought back to the sweet passion she and Guts had indulged in at the end of the summer. Then, bitterly, she thought of the following violation. What if this was not some internal injury? What if she was too muscular to bear a child?! What if the violence she had endured had also harmed whatever new life she and Guts had accidentally started--?!

Her worries were interrupted by Guts calling her name. He held his hand out to her, a questioning and worried look in his eye.

She gave him an appreciative but sad look, taking his hand. He squeezed it lightly before the two continued to walk quietly behind the gibbering farmer.

“Granny Laura, there’s guests here to see you,” the man said as he opened the door to a rather large cottage.

“Let them in.”

The farmer nodded, and the duo walked in. They took in the room. Neither were particularly familiar with what a nursery looked like and felt suddenly, incredibly out of place in this room full of young mothers and vulnerable babies. Some were barely even walking…! This must be the village’s boon after the war, a rebirth of new life after intense losses! The two were made very aware of how powerful they were and both subconsciously stuck along the wall, giving the mothers and children a wide berth. What business did mercenaries have with children?

“Oh, a couple,” Granny Laura commented, standing up from where she’d been speaking with a heavily pregnant mother. “Hm… You… I recognize you, from the smith’s stories! You’re Guts, correct?”

“I am. And, this is Casca. Please… Please give her a moment and give her a look over.”

Casca nodded. “I’ve… been bleeding non-stop for nearly the last ten days.”

Granny Laura frowned. “Oh? Well, that’s certainly no good. What brought this on?”

The dark skinned woman looked over at the others in the room. Her eyes trailed down. “… I would prefer to talk about it in private.”

“… I see.” She nodded. “I have a secluded room in the back of here. I can give you a look over within.” A pause, and then a hanging of her head. “… Unfortunately, my village can’t spare any supplies right now. Bandits have been making off with food and medical herbs, on top of taking some of our livestock. Even if I were to be able to assess what was wrong without using my supplies, I wouldn’t be able to--”

“We can pay,” Guts quickly said. “We’ve got two gold coins worth of smaller coins on us! We’ll hand it all over, if you’ll take care of Casca!”

“Guts...” Casca looked over. That money would also be needed for food and lodging. Even if Casca was taken care of during this, what did Guts hope to do? To sleep outside, to go without food? What of their supplies for the return journey? Did he plan to go slaying more bandits for more money? This was such hard work, traveling without their band! Earning money would become more difficult as peace settled further on the land!

Granny Laura looked between the two. “… Tell you what. I’ll charge you only for the supplies I’ll need to treat you, if any, if you can do me one favor, young man.”

“Anything,” Guts quickly replied.

“Track down the thieves that took our ox and return it to us. If you return that ox to us, we’ll feed and shelter the both of you until whatever this is resolves or winter arrives, which ever comes first.”

Casca’s brows furrowed. Yet more work…! “I don’t know if I’m in the condition to--”

“I’ll do it.” Guts smiled down at Casca when she gave him a cautious look. “I’m the former raid captain, right? Same thing.”

“And, for that, you had allies,” Casca pointed out. “A whole squad of men under you.”

“I’ve faced worse odds than some bandits.”

That left little argument. After a moment, Casca sighed. She did wish to be well; if she didn’t get better now, she’d be of little help to Guts! "If you’re this intent on it, it _would_ be for the best.”

“Perfect! Guts, head out and look for the main barn—ask any of the men about the bandits and let them know of our arrangement.”

“Gotcha.” As he turned to head out, he looked towards Casca. “I’ll be back by dark, so rest well.”

“You’re not going to sleep?!” Casca asked, incredulous. “You’ll be exhausted!”

“All the more reason to hurry.” He looked towards the midwife. “Start what work you can. I’ll bring your ox back, definitely.”

* * *

* * *

The bandits had always been spotted going up a little path into the mountains. That made sense, Guts supposed. However, it didn’t spell good news for his promise; those thieves were either going to sell that ox to another village, in which case he’d need to take one captive over night to get proof of the ox’s stolen nature to reclaim it, or they’d already eaten it. Either way, he’d either go back on his promise to Casca to be back by nightfall or he would be returning with a skull and might not get the villagers’ help for his… Lover? Yeah. For his lover.

Guts hurried in his steps. There was still plenty of time before noon. He hoped the bandits still had the ox alive and with them.

“If they don’t… If they don’t…!” He grit his teeth.

* * *

* * *

It took all of Casca’s will to not thrash and attack the midwife as she inspected Casca’s vagina and cervix.

“Well, I don’t feel any injury here,” the old woman noted. She looked at Casca with pity. “… It must be hard, being a woman and a warrior. To think this happened to you… No wonder that man’s so determined to make sure you shouldn’t have to struggle with more fighting.”

“...” Casca wasn’t sure what to say. So, she didn’t say anything at all.

“Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that it seems unlikely that the bleeding is coming from you, as in damage to your organs. However, you mentioned that you two had already—ahem--known each other before all this… If you were already with child, such a violent attack may have dislodged the baby from where it clung to your womb. Or, given your very athletic nature… you could just be having a difficult start to your pregnancy.” Granny Laura turned to the jars of small frogs and herbs she had lined up, each filled with Casca’s bodily fluids in different amounts. “I need the results from my little tests to determine that, but rest easy. Either way, I can help you.”

“Thank you,” Casca said quietly. “May I rest, now?”

“Of course, young lady. I’ll let you use this room to nap in. You may come out to join us at any point. Don’t feel afraid. The other women here know both about the fears of new motherhood and the sorrow of a lost child. Either way, we will be here to support you.” With that, Granny Laura walked out.

The support of other women… How foreign! How strange! Casca relaxed on the cot, trying to rest. Regardless of whether Guts made it back tonight or not, she would need to either help him defend themselves or go searching for him.

But, still… Which result did she want? It would be so much easier on them if there was no child, if she only had to expel some unfortunate culled-too-early cluster of flesh. It would hurt, surely, but what would they do with a baby on the road, traveling? What would they do if it was possessed? How would they even care for it? The diapers, the need for steady and constant food, for warmth and shelter? The crying, always giving away their position? It was too burdensome! They were both barely at two decades themselves!

Even still, Casca recalled the tenderness of Guts’s touch, when it was just them. She recalled her long lost childhood, the days before she had been sold. Playing with siblings in their small, destitute village. She thought of pine cone and leaf dolls, carefully laid to nap in stick cradles. She remembered the pride of men on her journeys as a mercenary, bragging about their families. She thought of the contented faces of women with their children clinging to their skirts.

And, she pictured herself and Guts like that. Maybe… Maybe they could return to Godot’s place. No, not until these marks were removed! Even if, for whatever reason, they hadn’t been attacked while within the mine, that was no way to live. To be tethered to one place, forced to return to it every night… That was nearly vampiric! It was like living as though dead and chained to haunt one place forever! They could have no ambitions like that! They’d be reduced to leeching off Godot’s family and Rickert forever!

No. She cast aside the idle dream of an infant bearing her dark skin and Guts’s beautifully wild hair. It could not come until their brands of sacrifice were somehow revoked.

If they could be revoked.

* * *

* * *

Bingo. Guts looked down the hill, sticking close to the dark, sleeping trees. The midday sun hid him in dark shade as he looked below. The bandits did, indeed, still have the ox. And, someone’s reclaimed old water mill. Guts supposed that, once upon a time, this has been an expansion of the village. He saw the windmill back in the place—indeed, traveling up this far to grind wheat seemed silly with how weak the river was here. It was fine to keep crops watered, but the wind flowing within the valley certain did better than this pathetic place.

“That’s what they’re doing, huh?” he supposed. The bandits did not seem so impressive. A lot of men, some now idly plowing a field near the river while others were sorting through goods stolen from the village. “I guess they meant to set up a base, even grow their own wheat in case the pickings from the village are slim.” He snorted. “That’s no good. They’re not professionals.”

Taking hold of the daggers he’d been gifted from Rickert and Godot on their departure, Guts made his way along the edge of the little hill overlooking the watermill-cottage. He sized the bandits up, deciding that it would be best if he killed, first, the one barking orders. Without their general, an army was easy to defeat; likewise, rogues without their leader were just common thugs!

He tested his aim. One… Two… Three!

With a flesh ripping noise too distant for Guts to hear, the leader trembled once before falling over, dead. The dagger was embedded in his neck and the angle of its handle gave away his location.

“Get that guy!” Running along the edge of the hill, slowly winding his way down, Guts held his great sword in his metal hand to protect himself. All the better that they should use up all their arrows now!

“Hold your fire! He’s hiding behind a… huge shield?!”

“You wish this was a shield!” Guts barked, finally making it down to the bottom of the hill and cutting through one of the men. The others fell into attacking.

It was oh so easy. Too easy, really. These men weren’t trained soldiers and their armor was so lacking compared to his own. They numbered a slim twenty, as well. Their blood tainted the earth where their bodies had fallen. Guts looked up. Just after noon.

“… I’ll have a quick nap, and then return the ox,” he thought. “I’ve gotta see what else I can recover for the village, as well.” Just a short rest, and then he’d be back. He’d need to stay up tonight, as well. Just a short rest.

He entered the watermill-cottage, spotting a bed. Perfect!

* * *

* * *

Casca looked out the window, anxious, as the sun began to set. “Guts…!” She stood, grabbing her sword and her armor, putting them all back on. “You fool!”

As she stormed out of her resting room and through the nursery, most of the mothers having returned to their homes for the night, Granny Laura roused from where she’d been resting on a couch.

“Casca? Where are you going? We don’t have the results, it may be no good for you to--!”

“Guts is out there by himself, and I’m the only one who can help him right now. I have to go to him.” Bracing herself, Casca headed into the night. How many strange creatures would she have to fight before she found Guts…?!

To her surprise, she saw only one lonely creature in the streets, walking and looking sad.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” it kept saying. “Please, I didn’t mean…!” It looked at Casca with hollow, sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry I let them get the ox, I know we need it, I’m just, I’m just--”

“… Hoppes?” A tired looking man opened his front door, looking confused.

“Get back inside!” Casca rushed forward, using her sword to cut off the hand of the spirit as it rushed towards the man in the door way. “Whatever this is, it isn’t Hoppes!”

“Father!” the ghost wailed. “Faaaather, I’m SORRY!” The spirit stumbled backwards, clawing at its own skin as its wails grew loud enough to cause a ringing in everyone’s ears. “WE NEEDED IT, AND I KNEW IT!” He looked around, frantic. “You…! Let me use your body!” He reached out for Casca. “I need a chance to get it back! Father, I’m so sorry--!”

As the ghost reached out to her, Casca swung her sword, parting its form in a diagonal line from ear to shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” As it faded away, she looked over to the man.

He was crying. “… Hoppes…!” He fell to his knees.

Yet, after the spirit faded, Casca felt a curious sensation—her brand stopped bleeding! The ache faded. There were… no vengeful spirits? Nothing lingering in the dark?

The father continued to wail. “Son, don’t worry! Hoppes, please don’t take regret to the grave…! I know you didn’t mean it, my boy! You tried your best to keep it!” He sobbed. “We’ll tie a ribbon for you this year, I swear it!”

That explained it. It was a pagan ritual and Casca had seen it once or twice as a girl. Every fall in farming villages, they would tie together around a bundle of some crop. They’d leave it in the fields for everyone they’d lost, a last offered meal for those who had departed. Perhaps that was why there were so few vengeful spirits here in this little farming town: the dead here had no qualm with the living.

“… It isn’t at all like a battlefield,” she mused before kneeling. “I’m sorry you had to see that. But, I’m in a rush, and as he was, your boy was a danger.” When she got no answer, Casca stood. It was time to find Guts.

* * *

* * *

He’d over slept. Pulling on the ox’s lead, Guts rushed through the dark path back down to the village. He’d weighed the beast down with a few supplies he’d recovered, along with some likely stolen goods that he’d give in an effort to help butter up the village to get better treatment for Casca.

He just had to make it back without the ox getting possessed! He only had to…!

_“MoooooOOOOO!”_ it bellowed.

Shit.

Guts released the lead, looking back. The ox staggered towards him, taking on a human face. Guts figured it was one of the many men he’d killed earlier that day.

“Well. Fuck.” Now he was faced with a real problem: he couldn’t kill this ox. He just couldn’t. Somehow… He was going to have to survive a whole night with it, making sure neither it nor the other spirits of the forest got to him.

As the possessed ox charged him, Guts blocked with the broad side of his sword. “Come on!”

* * *

* * *

That was definitely his cry! Casca pushed herself, panting as she ran. She slung her sword through grasping hands of nameless spirits. The bandits? Likely. Along with the other forgotten dead of this mountain trail. “Guts!”

He looked back, spotting her arriving. “Casca?! I told you to—UGH!” Thrown back by the charging beast, Guts slammed against a tree.

Casca rushed forward, ready to skewer it through the eye, when Guts called out.

“Don’t! It’s their ox!”

“But, it’s--”

“Just stay away! I’ll keep it busy until morning!”

Casca bit her tongue in fury, barely sliding out of the way of the next charge. As she did, Guts moved forward, letting the ox’s horns glance off the side of his sword.

“Let me at least watch your back, then!” Casca called, slicing down an oncoming spirit.

“Fine! But, if there’s anything big, you back off!”

* * *

* * *

It was once again pale blue skies over the little farming village as Guts and Casca approached. Behind them, the ox, thoroughly exhausted from the possession but all together no worse for the wear, walked. Man and woman alike looked ready to collapse.

“You did it…!” The villagers grew excited.

“It’s back!”

“We’ve only got three oxen right now, so all of them are very precious to us!”

“Here, we’ll take this! Follow this young lady—she’ll see about getting some sleeping arrangements and food for you both. Granny Laura will be by, soon!”

Guts looked over to Casca. He was bloody, on the verge of collapse from a whole night of taking the ox’s raging attacks, but it was worth it. Casca was going to get help. They could be well, together.

“Let’s… get some sleep.”

“You absolutely need it,” Casca retorted.

* * *

* * *

It was just some blankets over hay in the loft of the community’s storage house, but it was plenty comfortable for the two of them. Bellies full of warm buttered bread, grilled chicken, and a medley of mushrooms and wild herbs, the two fell into an easy slumber. As always, they slept apart, but close enough to see the other when they awoke.

It was late afternoon before Granny Laura approached them, growing wise to their nocturnal natures. With a knock, she entered the loft.

“Casca?”

Rubbing her eyes, Casca awoke. “Granny Laura?”

“Hello, dear,” the old woman greeted as both mercenaries sat up. “I have the results.” Both leaned in closer. “… Unfortunately, the baby is indeed dying.” Granny Laura gave both a sympathetic look. “However, I have medicine that will help you expel the remains, if you have about two days to spare on recovering.”

“How much?” Guts asked.

“Five silver, for the entire treatment. I’ll oversee her and you both will, again, be able to stay with us until she feels better.”

“We’ll take it.” A pause, then he looked towards her. “Right…?”

“Of course. If… it’s dying, I need it out before it rots inside of me.” Still she looked down.

“… I’ll let you finish resting. Find me before nightfall and I’ll start the treatment.” With that, Granny Laura left.

As Casca had already updated him on the town’s unusually peaceful spiritual nature, Guts felt content to stay while Casca recovered. Better here than on the road. Still… A child. They’d… almost had a child. A child between him and Casca…! His heart wretched with loss. But, even if it had been healthy, what would they have done with it? A pair of mercenaries raising… a…

Oh no. He looked towards Casca, spotting her forlorn expression. He thought of Shisu. He thought of Gambino. Would they end up like that?! Estranged? Her, not fully there, desperate for any child that came her way?! Would he grow to resent her, unable to grow close…?! She already would barely let him touch her, he--

“Are you okay?” he asked, piercing the silence in desperation.

The woman looked up, crying. “… We should at least come up with a name for it, for when we bury it.”

“Casca...”

“I was thinking Goren. You know, guts and gore, ahaha?” Her laugh was bitter. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I—um… Oh, what would it have…?”

Guts reached forward. Could he hug her? Would she let him? Would she push him further away after this new suffering? But,she did not. For the first time in over a week, she leaned into his touch, letting him hug her. She trembled all the while, but her desire for comfort was greater than her worry that he would feel like the apostles.

“I hate him! I hate him so much! He’s too cruel, this is all too cruel! It’s too much! He’s taken too much!” she screamed.

Guts held her closer. As she trembled in rage, he could only hold his dearest one close to him. “We’ll get revenge for Goren and ourselves, Casca. I swear it.”

There was nothing more he could do for now. These next few days, all he could do was be there for Casca, watching over her and letting them both rest and recover together. Then, it’d be back to Godot and figure out a way to remove these brands of sacrifice.

And, then… After that…!

Revenge, perhaps.


	3. (Living), Not Thriving

It was like labor, despite the fact the child was nowhere near ready for birth. Guts held Casca’s hand, feeling suddenly helpless as she grunted and tried to force their ill-fated child out of her body. Granny Laura lingered by Casca as well, ready to catch the corpse. Another groan and a final flush of blood left Casca.

“… Here it is,” Granny Laura said, washing the small body in water. “… It’s covered in growths. I say this not to chide, but to warn: if you should try again in the future, you must be gentler on your child.”

The couple looked on in somber silence.

The dark haired man thumbed the back of his lover's hand. “… Casca, you rest. I’ll bury it. We can both go visit it wh--”

In a sudden flare of power, the corpse’s eye opened. A single, wretched eye looked from Guts and then to Casca. All night, Casca had labored and as the sun rose, falling upon the blood red child in Granny Laura’s grasp, it faded away into the sun.

“No...” Casca sat up, even as Granny Laura tried to insist she lay down. “No! NOOOO!!” Casca thrashed as Guts and Laura encouraged her to relax. Eventually, she collapsed into grief. “BASTARD! TRAITOR! YOU’RE TAKING EVEN THIS FROM ME?! NOTHING TO BURY, NOTHING TO MOURN?! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU, I’LL KILL YOU, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Guts’s own face was screwed up in misery and anger. This was a second death for their child. The fetus had been tainted, corrupted it seemed, by Femto’s attack on Casca. Now, it was an accursed specter that would haunt the night.

Even as she laid still, Casca had a glimmer of madness in her eyes. But, as Guts recalled how good and natural it felt to finally be fighting again as he slaughtered those bandits, he felt that perhaps he was not so different. They were both fundamentally changed by the wounds they’d received during the Eclipse, the final straw in a life time of hard knocks.

And, thus, he felt further bonded to her. He would happily accept this grief-stricken madness about her if she would also accept his new appetite for violence. It was not a search for meaning anymore, not like when he was a mercenary. Now, he was swinging his sword to prove the Eclipse would never repeat. Would Casca be raging for the same reasons? Likely. And, thus, as the sun rose and Casca slipped into sleep from exhaustion, he felt certain that they had to be together.

“We’ve still got each other, Casca,” Guts whispered, ruffling her hair.

* * *

* * *

The crunch of the leaves under their feet was only a distraction. The exhausting journey coupled with their emotional turmoil only served to make it all the more of a relief when they saw Godot’s tiny home and smithy.

“Casca! Guts!” Erica called, a basket of mushrooms and acorns in hand. She rushed over, giggling. “How was it? Is Casca better?”

She forced a smile. “I’m feeling much better, thank you.”

“Yay! I’ll make a yummy dinner to celebrate!” With that, Erica ran off.

Guts looked over to her. “Are we going to tell them?”

“… I’ll tell Godot. There’s no reason to worry Rickert or Erica.” Casca took Guts’s hand. “Let’s go see them.”

As the two walked towards the house, they noticed a curious sight. Rickert was on the hill in the distance, driving a sword into the ground. The couple shared a look before continuing into the house.

Inside, Godot was counting coins. He looked over, seeming in good spirits. He always was after a good sale.

“Oh, wow, you still get customers?” Guts teasingly asked.

Godot huffed, glaring up at Guts. “Of course I still get customers! What in the hell are you trying to imply?!” Ignoring the big man, the smith looked towards Casca. “How are you, miss mercenary?”

“...” Casca looked around. Seeing that Erica was not around, she let her shoulders droop. “I’ve been better.”

“Did it not go well?” Godot asked.

“No,” Guts stated. “We… encountered more residual effects from the darkness of that.” Venom dripped from his tongue. He meant it all; about getting revenge for… his lover and child? Did he have a right to call them his family…? Perhaps. Regardless, he meant to get revenge for them. He’d break every bone in Griffith’s body and rip the skin from his flesh for this. Cruelty unto cruelty.

“You know, Rickert’s making grave markers out of swords for the Band of the Hawk. He could… make one for…?” The baby’s name was a mystery for Godot, so he waited on the two to supply it.

“Goren,” Guts said. “And… we aren’t sure if we want to tell them, when we have to leave after _this_.”

“Oh? What else has happened?”

Casca crossed her arms. “… There’s a cursed mark on us. Spirits are drawn to us like this, though they never attacked within the mine for whatever reason.”

“It used to be an elf home,” Godot mused. “Perhaps that’s why.”

“Well, regardless, we both decided we’re going to look for a way to remove the brand before we return. After that...” Guts shrugged. “We were wondering if, at some future time, we could live here once we’re able to actually work.”

“I’d like that. Rickert’s proving to be quite the good apprentice, but I’d like him and Erica to have more than each other for company and security.” Godot grinned. “Besides, I’m sure the two of you’ll spread word of the goods we make, so it’ll only be profit for everyone!”

“We’ll be sure to spread the good word, yeah,” Casca agreed. “But for now… We’ll go rest in the mines. It’s been a long journey.”

“Of course. See you tomorrow, then?” Godot asked.

“You bet.”

With that, Guts and Casca headed to rest.

* * *

* * *

A week passed before Guts and Casca headed out again. Their food supplies were topped off and their weapons and armor given one last check. As Casca and Guts headed out for some salvation that might not even exist, Rickert wished them well one last time.

Two swords at on the hill, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes our introductory arc! Next up is an arc about getting our first two "party members."


	4. (Mother) of Pearl [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This arc will introduce Puck to the group! I anticipate about four chapters for the completion of this part of the story. Expect a lot of fluff here, but this arc is mostly about fluff and exploring the Gutsca ship as I'll be writing it here!

“We’re gonna need to find a church or something to rest inside,” Casca grunted.

Guts had to agree. This was getting unbearable. “Or even a cave… if there’s only one entrance, we can take turns resting...”

The duo were headed to a port city on Midland’s borders, a sort of pseudo-neutral zone that bought its freedom from the nations around it by supplying them all equally with goods and services. Fighting over it would be too costly as everyone valued it highly and the loss of it to even one nation that relied upon it might horrifically injure that nation’s economy.

However, they weren’t sightseeing—there was rumor of a woman who could supposedly remove blights from people. Naturally, the duo were going to see if they could see about their own issue.

But, they hadn’t been able to sleep this day as a storm had raged, letting the night spirits plague them for hours beyond their points of exhaustion. The steady crunch of the rocky road leading down to the port city was some comfort. Even if they couldn’t find something along this road down to their destination to stay in, they could at least make it by the next morning. One more night of fighting… And, then, they could rest.

“The hell’s that?”

At Guts’s deep gruff, Casca looked up. She squinted. “A big ass tent?” She tilted her head. “… It’s really colorful?”

As the two walked closer, they kept exchanging looks, thoroughly confused. However, as Casca grew cautious, Guts felt himself recalling something. He squinted.

“It’s a circus!” he said after a few minutes, grinning widely. The one eyed man grinned over at Casca, pointing at it with his good arm. “Ever been to one?”

“Uh, no,” Casca said simply.

“I’ve only been once, but it was incredible!” He relished the memory. “I mean, I don’t remember much, but… Gambino’s band must have been doing well, ‘cause he let Shisu take me and some others there.” He laughed heartily. “I actually thought about becoming a magician for a few days after!”

Looking over his face, Casca looked at their remaining money. They’d be sleeping in a barn and eating cheese-and-bread after this, but, hey. This was the first time she’d ever seen a circus and if it made Guts this excited, she was down to blow the money.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Huh?”

Casca started walking towards it. “We’ve got a few hours before it gets dark. If it sucks, we leave. If not, we’ll have something nice to think about while we’re taking turns guarding the entry to some chilly cave.”

Setting his jaw as he followed her, Guts had to wonder if it was a good idea. Still, as he approached and he heard the sounds of animals, he couldn’t help but get excited. Circus!!

* * *

Casca watched Guts out of the corner of her eye. A young woman, looking to have some Kushan ancestry on top of her typical Midlander features, twirled ribbon while a tiger frolicked around her. A small blue light circled around the woman. It was truly an incredible show.

“That was great!” Guts grinned. “I guess we should go. I just gotta get one last look at the tiger!”

“You really like big cats, huh?” She sighed happily.

“Something about ‘em… I just get it! The power, the ferocity, yet… They can be gentle when they choose!” he gushed.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you relate?” Casca asked as they walked out of the tent with the crowd.

Cue a blush and a scratch of his cheek. “I wouldn’t go that far...”

“I’m teasing.”

As Guts tried to fight his mild embarrassment, he spotted the woman and tiger. He approached without realizing it, admiring the tiger. The woman balked, seeming shocked. Casca laughed.

“Sorry! He really likes your kitty.”

“Oh! Well, thank you!” The performer scratched under the tiger’s chin. “She’s my very best friend!”

“I see!” Something caught the dark skinned warrior’s eye. “Oh? What’s that mark on her head?”

“Oh, it’s a left over of her treatment!” The woman sighed. “Some weeks ago, my dear friend grew ill. We looked all around for a cure, but our only luck was the Lady of Green Feathers down by the city below this hill. The port city, you know? Anyways, the woman healed my friend and left that mark as a part of her magic...” She sighed. “The cost was very high, though.”

That sounded like their goal. Guts felt cautious, now. “What was the cost?”

“My hair.”

Both Guts and Casca had to resist falling down over the sheer lack of actual weight that issue had. Both kept their hair incredibly short, anyways! What would it hurt to be bald for a month or so?!

Sensing their lack of awareness of the true cost, the performer gushed more of an answer. “Before this, a rich merchant in the city had proposed marriage to me if I’d leave the circus for him! But, after I lost my hair, he recanted… So, it’s me and my tiger out here in the circus again!”

“I suppose that is a high cost for a woman,” Guts mused.

Casca looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Most women have to rely on a man to provide for them.”

He looked down at her and then looked off. “… You only rely on me when you’re seriously ill. For that to be a long term thing, you’d have to be crazier than you already are.”

“That’s rich coming from mister nuts for battle,” Casca spat. They weren’t really angry; it felt like old times. Banter, as it were.

The woman sensed this and laughed. “Well, I’d hate to hold up a married couple! You two should hurry into the city. If you rush, you can enter it first thing tomorrow morning! Won’t that be a good honeymoon?”

“Oh, we’re not--” Casca began to explain. But, before she could, Guts knocked her to the ground. Casca didn’t need to ask why. She trusted Guts. True to form, an arrow lodged down in such a way that it would have taken her shoulder if she’d been standing. “Good reflexes,” she praised as she and Guts rolled apart.

“Yeah,” Guts said absently, pulling out his sword. “Bandits. Oh well, payday it is.”

* * *

A short burst of violence later, and the three bandits who thought themselves wise enough to take on two ex-mercenaries and a tiger found themselves very dead. Guts looked displeased.

“That was a whole ‘nother thirty minutes of travel time this cost us… Coulda already found somewhere to hunker down.”

The leader of the circus bowed. “Still, you helped us out greatly! Our children could have been in danger, not to mention our profits.”

“If you’re that grateful, give us back what we spent on the performance,” Guts said flatly.

Casca stepped before him. “How about this: you let us keep whatever we find on the bandits and we’ll call it even.”

“What the hell?!” Guts hissed.

Casca snapped back. “They’ve got kids…! You wanna take food outta the mouth of a kid?!”

Guts crossed his arms. “Ain’t like nobody else does that...”

All the same, the bodies were looted. A bit of food as well as some fresh bolts and arrows were garnered. The coinage was enough for Casca to not worry about their future expenses in the port city, while Guts found something peculiar. It was a necklace, almost reflective but not quite. It was somewhat like… milky grease in appearance. He couldn’t explain it. But, pocketing it, he looked over at Casca.

She’d been about to refute that tiger trainer earlier about being married.

“Yeah, well, you’re already my woman far as physically, so let’s hear you say that after I propose,” he gruffed, mostly trying to hype himself up mentally. Was that really a thing he could do!? Him and Casca?! Could he propose to her?! Geez, they weren’t even really courting! Not officially, anyways. Then again, mercenaries didn’t do that sort of thing. Hell, he’d only even known a few married mercenaries in all his life and most of those were just mercenaries for a season!

“Guts, you coming?” Casca called as she looked towards the road. Sunset was just an hour or two away.

“Yeah!” he yelled, catching up to her.

Eh. Who cared if it was official or the right thing. He’d at least give her the necklace and ask her to start calling herself his wife.

* * *

It was not an impressive cave by any stretch of the imagination, but they’d managed to poke a secondary hole in it, above the entrance, so that smoke could filter out. Deep within it, Casca slept. Guts had damn near wrestled her into going to sleep first, determined that she should get a break while he bore the brunt of the exhaustion before finally getting his own break.

Sword beside him and back to the cave where the fire danced and Casca slept, Guts watched the sombre road. But, very few haunting spirits had arrived. It was likely that the terrain washed them down, thus sweeping any potential specters down with them. It was a brief respite.

Good.

Still, he kept himself occupied and vigilante, cleaning a few daggers.

“It was more entertaining when you were fighting.”

Guts stood, whirling around only to find no one there. No incubi, either. He huffed, about to chalk it up to being _that_ tired when something fluttered before his eyes.

“Don’t swing your blade at me!” the little figure chided.

The man blinked. “… What on earth?”

The tiny creature huffed. “What, never seen an elf before?” It twirled. “I’m Puck! Nice to meet you!”

A blink. No answer.

“… You’re rude!”

Sitting back down, Guts decided that since his mark wasn’t bleeding, this wasn’t anything to be worried about.

* * *

In the end, Guts chalked the strange, occasionally chattering winged fellow up to his sleep deprived brain and, at the changing of the guard, didn’t even bother telling Casca. He did warn her that he’d seen one or two roaming skeletons, but they were rare and were easy to push over the edge of the cliff.

That was how Casca found herself guarding the entry to their little hidden rest spot. Grateful for the rest, Casca listened to the soft sounds of Guts breathing evenly in his sleep. How nice to have this again, after a year apart and the turmoil of the Eclipse. It was not at all how they’d planned it, but they were now making good on their promise to travel together. It was almost nice.

“We just have to make it ‘til morning and reach the city,” she mumbled, watching the road.

“Whatcha headin’ to the city for?”

Casca whipped up as well, light sword pinning in the direction of the voice. Hovering above her blade was Puck, looking panicked.

“You’re worse than him!” the elf squeaked, shivering.

Eyes bulging, Casca put a hand to her armor, pressing her shirt flush to her skin. No sticky heat of blood, no aching throb of a nearby apostle or undead spirit. Yet, here this strange thing was before her.

“Whatcha doin’?” Puck asked as he calmed down.

She answered a question with a question: “What are you?”

“An elf! Or, a pisky if you wanna specific. Name’s Puck!”

His jubilant manner made Casca relax a bit. “I thought elves were just children’s stories.”

“And, I thought lady-knights didn’t exist,” the elf shot back.

The woman laughed. “Lady mercenary! Didn’t get the honor of actually carrying through on a promised knighthood. Shame.” She looked off sadly. “I think I would have been a good asset to the knighthood. But, that’s not tonight. I’m Casca.”

“Wonderful to meet you! You and your big friend are quite impressive! I think I’d like to travel with you two for a bit.”

“That’s really not a good idea, Puck.”

The little elf landed atop Casca’s head, waving off her concern though she couldn’t see. “I’ll pay my toll by healing your wounds! You just take me interesting places and feed me, okay?”

Seeing no way to argue with a little flying magic-man, Casca just continued her watch.

* * *

“Guts, it’s time to wake up,” Casca urged, getting out a bit of hard bread and cheese for their breakfast.

He woke up easily, looking her over for injury. Finding none, he began to eat. He noticed the little blue man atop her head and only briefly thought that perhaps he should sleep more in the city.

Casca noticed his look and gaped. “Nothing to say?!”

Guts looked up. Confused, he looked over her. “You… look pretty today?”

“The elf!” Casca said, grabbing Puck in her hand and presenting him to Guts. “It’s an elf!”

“That thing was real?!”

“Of course I’m real!” Puck added during the bickering.

“You saw it and didn’t tell me?!”

“I thought I was hallucinating!”

“Well, you were!” The dark skinned woman huffed before setting Puck before his little breakfast ration.

“Wait, why are you feeding it?” Guts demanded. He didn’t snatch the crumbs back, but he was sure thinking about it.

Pucks grumbled. “I have a name, you know… I’m pretty sure I told you it, too.”

“Puck is paying his way with us by acting as a healer,” Casca said simply as she chewed on some cheese.

Guts scoffed between bites of bread. “That little thing? What’s it gonna do? Kiss the boo-boo better?” He hoped not. No one had done that to him since Shisu and maybe Casca once or twice, and he wasn’t interested in anyone else trying.

“You’ve been _healed_ by elf dust before, Guts,” Casca pointed out.

“I thought Judeau was pulling my leg,” he admitted. He glared at the tiny man all the same. “What proof do we have that he can?”

Puck looked off. “Uh...”

Casca picked up the little dagger she used to cut the cheese and pricked her finger.

“Casca!” Guts chided.

“Get to work,” Casca ordered.

“Ugh!” Puck whined. “What a scary lady…!” Still, he fluttered over, dusting Casca’s finger. Instantly, the bleeding stopped and after a short glow, the skin was healed anew.

Guts blinked. “Well, shit.” He sighed before wolfing down the rest of his breakfast. “Welcome aboard, then, Puck.”

The little elf giggled. “Nice! Now, who’s gonna carry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really appreciate feedback!


	5. (Mother) of Pearl [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the first fan-apostle of the series! We'll only have a few of these. But, this series IS canon divergent! Ergo, we'll have enemies we would have never seen before!

“So, they lied about the distance,” Guts grumbled. It was night. This was going to set their sleep schedules even more off the norm than they already were, which he resented.

As her gruff lover expressed his displeasure, Casca gave him a weary smile. “At least we’re here.” She put a hand into his. “Soon, we won’t have to live like this.”

Soothed, Guts squeezed her hand a bit. She still didn’t let him hug her, didn’t want to sleep together in a bed. But, that was fine. She needed time. He’d needed his entire adolescence to become comfortable with intimacy again after what had happened to him. Though, it could have been exacerbated due to him being a child… But, he supposed that the demonic violation at the hands of one’s supposed savior-idol-presumed-_friend_ would also leave a lasting wound that would need time to heal.

He loved Casca. He could wait.

_**(Can you?) **_a dark voice inside himself asked and he wondered with a shock where it ever came from.

From where he reclined in a pouch where Casca kept some medicinal herbs, Puck poked his head out. “Oh, boy! I just came from here, but it was so nice! We gonna go get some fish? I loooove roasted fish!”

“You know we aren’t, Puck,” Casca explained gently. “We’ve got to find somewhere to take shelter for the night—hopefully, somewhere we won’t draw unwanted attention to unfortunate people...” It’d been a while since they stayed in a town. Sure, the midwife’s village had been a haven, but they were a tight-knit community. It was unlikely a big port city like this didn’t have its share of vengeful dead.

Letting go of Casca’s hand, Guts considered the necklace from other. The milky-oil hue of it shined so brilliantly. He worked his tongue over in his mouth as Casca looked curiously at him before he grabbed the treasure out of his side holster and handed it to her. “Stop telling people you’re not my woman,” he near-ordered. “I already told you I wanna make love to you a thousand more times, so don’t go backin’ out on me now!”

The dark skinned woman was briefly flustered. “Is this a proposal?!”

“Hell yeah it is!” He made up for nervousness with faux bravado.

Her hands never trembled when holding a sword, but as she accepted the necklace—and, ignored Puck’s over the top gushing—she realized she was indeed getting flustered like… like some village maiden being courted by a lord’s son! Mercy, what was this?! How did he still have this effect on her, after all they’d been through and considering his own… rough… powerful… gentle… charming--

Oh, mercy, she had it bad for him, despite it all.

Quickly clasping the necklace around her neck, but thinking twice of the value and tucking it into her shirt, Casca smiled up at Guts briefly. She then looked to the side, hands folded neatly before her. “I suppose this makes me your wife, now.”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, a shaky breath escaping. It was that easy?! “Hope you aren’t expecting no fancy wedding at a church. Ain’t got the money for that.” He recalled how the nobles they’d been around a seeming lifetime ago had regarded marriage. He remembered Casca had enjoyed that good life, too.

She took his hand again, walking into the city. “Not at all.” She thought back to her childhood, though. “… I wouldn’t mind if maybe we went dancing somewhere, sometime… That’s… one wedding tradition I like.”

Guts couldn’t dance for shit. “We can do that.” She hadn’t cared the last time they’d danced together, so this time probably wouldn’t be different.

* * *

Puck looked over at the duo, exhausted himself. He’d been unable to get steady sleep, switching back and forth between the two as they took shifts attacking undead spirits while the other stoked the fire of the little, abandoned beach-shack they’d taken refuge in. As dawn approached, Casca and Guts had collapsed into sleep on opposite sides of the fire. The shack was in utter disrepair, sand along the floor. That suited their purposes, though; the whole building wouldn’t go up if it was soaked from the rain and sea breezes, and the fire couldn’t properly dry it out if there was a layer of sand between it and the wooden floor.

“It’s almost noon,” Puck supposed. “I’m getting hungry.” And, thus, their doze had to end! Five or six hours was plenty, wasn’t it? Indeed!

Tap dancing on Casca’s head, the little elf waited for his companions to awake. However, he was rewarded with Casca casually brushing him away and sitting up.

“Stop that,” she said groggily. “Puck, you’re a little turd… An ass...”

Guts sat up as well, smirking as he put together the scene. “Well, let’s get up. We’ve gotta start asking about this healer woman.”

“You mean the Lady of Green Feathers?” Puck asked, huffing as he floated back over.

“You know her?” Casca inquired.

Puck turned his nose up. “I’ve already seen her place! It’s this garden on a hill outside of the city!”

Guts nearly crushed the elf in the grasp of his good hand. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE MEAN!” The little elf wriggled and finally got himself free, fluttering high above Guts and Casca.

For a moment, the former commander scrutinized Puck. Then, she sighed, pulling out what was left of their rations. She left a portion for their new companion. “We have to start sharing info with each other, Puck. Let’s eat breakfast.”

Begrudgingly, the huge man sat down with the little elf by Casca and ate. “So, is it true? Can she actually heal incredible wounds and cure curses?”

“I’ve heard so.” He shrugged. “Never actually met her. But, everyone who’s left her seemed happy, even if they had to give up something. There was even a man who said he’d been possessed before visiting her, swearing he felt fine after.”

“That just leaves the issue of payment, then, if this works out...” Casca twirled her hair between her fingers. It was still as short as ever. “I don’t mind being bald for a while. Do you?”

“To get rid of this goddamned brand? Hell no.”

She nodded. “It might not be this, but if it’s something trivial, it’s no issue to give it up, yeah.”

With that decided, they finished breakfast. Off to the Lady of Green Feathers, soon, then!

* * *

The walk up to the Lady of Green Feathers’s place was quite the trek. It was mid-afternoon by the time they neared the thick, lush garden surrounding her abode, and both of the duo felt an unsettling sort of heavy pressure. Their bands ached and this set them both on edge.

“Casca,” Guts began to warn, holding one hand out in front of himself. “Get behind m--”

Before Guts could finish his sentence, a massive white form burst through the underbrush. He barely managed to push Casca down and to the side. As he looked over, he saw only a lion-like tail twirling in retreat.

Casca, meanwhile, looked on with wide eyes. “Was that a unicorn?!”

“Dunno, but we’ve got bigger issues.” Guts stood, grabbing his sword. Times like these, he resented that Godot hadn’t been able to fully replicate his old one from before the incident. Maybe he’d go back to ask for a better one when they got some more cash… For now, he swung the blade at a trio of spirits.

“It’s daytime!” Casca noted, swinging her blade as well. “Why are they here?!”

Guts noted the dappled nature of the forest floor. “It’s the tree cover. It’s hiding them from the sunlight.”

“We should get to the tower, then!!” Puck screeched. “I never had this issue with the circus caravan!!”

“It’s our brands!” Casca diced through a spirit before grabbing Guts’s hand. “We gotta move!”

Guts didn’t resist. Rushing to out pace the spirits, Guts and Casca haphazardly jabbed out with their blades. Almost… Almost… The edge of the treeline! There, a stone tower covered in vine growths and marked over with the most curious markings.

They didn’t have time to consider it. Into the door they slipped, the big man bracing the door behind them. The spirits howled briefly before the afternoon sunlight right at the entryway burned them back into strictly the astral realm.

“Well… Seems like we’re stuck here,” Guts grumbled.

Looking over the distinctly airy and not-at-all-fortified or even fully sealed windows, Casca winced. “This won’t be a very safe place.”

“Do you mean from the beasts of the woods?”

The trio looked over, seeing a woman dressed in a thick, elegant gown. It looked much like a noble woman’s, except much more ornate, bordering on gaudy. It was decorated in assortment of greens and blues and she had distinct peacock feathers decorating her carefully coiffed and pinned hair. The whole ensemble was finished off by a feather fan in her hand which she continually fluttered.

Ever blunt and too loyal to be swayed by a random pretty woman, Guts wasted no time in answering: “The spirits, yeah. You’ve seen ‘em?”

The woman laughed. “I have! Do not worry. They will not enter my home.” She gestured her rug. It had many symbols etched onto it. “I am the Lady of Green Feathers, and my home is warded with ancient runes to keep out wandering spirits. They could not enter without a host.” She paused, looking the duo over. “You are… not possessed, are you?”

“No, my lady,” Casca said, slipping easily back into the formal tongue of her brief days of an almost-knight in the courts of Midland. It felt bittersweet and she relished the fleeting sensation. “I think you’re actually who we’re looking for. We’ve heard that you can heal even non-physical ailments…?”

The woman laughed again. “This is true. Though, I must be careful.” She winked. “The church has been after my head for years.” Gesturing for them to follow her, she led them further into her home. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you two are quite the handsome couple!”

Neither blushed, being both too old and too jaded for that, but they shared a fond look.

Puck piped up. “What about the cost? You charged the last lady her hair!” he said.

The woman seemed surprised to hear Puck and looked over him briefly before nodding. “Well, first, before I can name a cost, I must know the ailment. I hope you’ll understand, but I adore beauty. Please… be prepared to give me something worthy of being called artful and romantic before this process is over. Now, one by one, you two come to meet with me so we can discuss your ailments.”

Casca and Guts exchanged a look. This seemed like a questionable idea. But, the woman had wards against spirits, was an outsider of the nation due to being an enemy of the church, and was a known healer.

“Casca goes first, and I wait near by,” Guts finally insisted.

“Yeah,” Casca agreed.

The woman nodded, and the plan was carried out.

* * *

The Lady of Green Feathers’s stone tower was three stories high, with the bottom floor being an open reception and storage room. The second floor was her main business area, and that left Guts to assume the top floor was her private residence. With Casca and the Lady in the stranger’s library, discussing the possibility and cost of removing the brand of sacrifice, Guts nosed around the second floor.

There was a decent little tea room that overlooked the Lady’s rose garden in the back and Guts did have to admit that he was sort of envious of the place. Not as it was, of course, but somewhere like it with perhaps some better fortifications and some food crops rather than some useless roses, maybe in some mountains…

Yeah. He could live somewhere like that.

Idly, Guts wandered over to the only other room on the floor. However, this one was locked. He lifted a brow before inspecting the handle. A keyhole. He snorted.

No problem for a mercenary with assassination experience. Crouching down, he shifted through one of his holster pockets for a few metal tools.

“You’re gonna steal from her?” Puck asked in accusation as he floated around Guts.

Shaking his head, the big man walked into the last room of the floor. “Nah. I’m just making sure she isn’t hiding anything from us.”

The room the two entered was laden with treasures. Guts couldn’t deny the temptation to take some of the jewels and crystals to trade for coin to support his and Casca’s journey, but it was more important that they got these brands removed. He examined the paintings, begrudgingly noting that the two of them wouldn’t be able to give the Lady anything like this if this was her typical payment. The collection grew more macabre as he looked around. He noticed selections of hair locks, all in assorted colors and textures. Between beautiful gowns and coats and even shows, there were little vials of red that he presumed were filled with blood.

“Definitely a witch,” Guts muttered. Still… If it was just some blood, they could give that and recover from the loss if it was that little blood. He supposed he should be grateful the cost for removing the brand should be so low before he spotted something dull and smooth among the vials of blood.

“No...”

Puck fluttered over from where he’d been admiring some jewelry to where Guts was brewing in quiet fury.

“It can’t fucking be.” Snagging the behelit between both hands, Guts glared at the cursed egg. The deep, royal indigo blue of the behelit seemed to taunt him.

“You’re mad at the egg?” The elf seemed concerned.

Guts began striding out of the room. “The egg turns people into apostles.” Flashes of the Eclipse’s horrors played in Guts’s mind. “Anyone who has it is an enemy of the highest caliber.”

* * *

“So, it is a brand of sacrifice,” the Lady of Green Feathers said, looking over Casca as the other woman had just concluded explaining her situation. “I think I have a magic that will make this no longer an issue for you. However… In order to do this, I will need two things of high value from you.”

“Yes? What are they?” Casca asked, leaning forward.

The woman hummed. “I won’t lie to you, darling. I deal in dark magics. Perhaps I should take the beauty of your lips—such soft, pink lips could be made dull and thin. Or, those bright, dark eyes of yours could become dull and gray. Maybe the same for your hair?” The Lady thought it over.

A thought struck Casca. She would need to explain it to Guts later and apologize, but, for now…!

Casca reached into her shirt, producing her wedding necklace. “What about this? It’s my precious item. My husband gave it to me when he proposed.” Which was recently, but the Lady needn’t know that.

The Lady looked it over. “Oh, how beautiful… A woven sea grace chain with an oyster shell pendant thick with mother of pearl. I’ll take it.”

Casca held out a hand. “Hold on. I want to pay for you to remove my husband’s mark with this.”

The Lady raised a brow. “Oh? And, how will you remove your own, darling?”

The warrior squirmed. “… I… suppose I’ll have to give up my hair, or perhaps my lips or eyes...”

The Lady laughed. “Oh, how noble! No, darling. I already said you were both such a handsome couple. I shan’t take what beauty you two have from you. Rather, help me make something beautiful for me. Beautiful, and useful.” She leaned in as if they were sharing a secret. “In my garden, there are white roses. Go, feed them your blood until they turn red. Once they’re crimson, I can use them to free you from the suffering of this brand of sacrifice.”

“And, if I do that… Guts and I both will be free of these brands of sacrifice?” Casca asked.

The Lady of Green feathers smiled. “Oh, my dear. If you hurry to do this, after tonight, you shall never worry about them ever again.”

Without further waiting, Casca stood. “I’ll be back! Don’t change your mind!” She rushed out, grinning.

Finally, salvation…!

* * *

Casca was in the garden, though Guts could not see her from where he’d first burst into the Lady of Green Feathers’s library. She stood with her back to him, looking out of the great window that showed her the rose garden.

“You’re an apostle!” Guts snarled, sword at the ready with the behelit in his other hand. “Or, you’re gonna be…! You’re planning on using this behelit to sacrifice--”

“I have no need for that behelit,” the Lady said, looking back to Guts. She grinned, holding the mother of pearl necklace up by its woven grass strands. “That behelit is for your wife. She bought the right to it by giving me this.” The Lady grinned wider as Guts’s expression turned to shock. “Oh, didn’t see that coming, did you? No, I suppose not. You’re clearly deeply in love with her… And, her, well… She gave me this necklace for her own salvation.”

“You’re lying! She doesn’t even have a sacrifice!” Guts snapped.

“Oh, but doesn’t she?” The Lady’s laughter turned maniacal.

The warrior’s blood ran cold as he realized who Casca was close enough to sacrifice:

Him.

“Guts!” Puck called, fluttering around the man. “Snap out of it! Do you think Casca would really do that?! She seemed so happy with you…! Weren’t you two doing this for a happy life together?!”

Shaking his head, Guts nodded. “You’re right. Casca isn’t like some people.” _Griffith._ “She’s driven by loyalty, not ambition.”

The Lady stood before the window as the sun began to set. Washed in the dark sun of twilight, the woman nodded and glowered at Guts. Her eyes glowed an unnatural teal. “You’re right. Your expressions were beautifully delicious, though. The misery, the worry, the longing for love…! Ahaha! But, you’ll only suffer more!” The Lady held her arms out. As the light faded, she began to transform. The elegant dress shortened, turning into a thick layer of feathers. “She’s going to foolishly offer her blood to my white roses, which are my underlings. When they’re awakened by blood, they’ll definitely go after someone with a brand of sacrifice.”

As Guts stared up at the Peacock Apostle, he gripped his sword tighter. “I’LL KILL YOU!” Roaring in fury, he rushed forward, slashing and pushing the Peacock Apostle through the window of the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I DID make Casca and Guts as officially married as two mercenaries get in this fic. This is my right and my ability. YES I did make their marriage proof a necklace. This is almost my right.


	6. (Mother) of Pearl [3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of the Mother of Pearl arc! Thank you for sticking with it! Next arc is when Isidro gets introduced! It'll probably be only two chapters compared to this one...? I'm not sure. Anyways, see you then! Enjoy this for now!

Her wrist dripped red and she willed herself to not respond to the wrist wound anymore than she would to a strike upon her flesh mid-battle. She could always heal later, especially so now that they had Puck with them. But, for now, she had to earn the right to the Lady of Green Feathers’s abilities. She and Guts had to have these brands of sacrifice off of them.

They’d never be able to have a good life without it.

The former commander looked up from where she was feeding the white roses to see… A monster?

No, an apostle!

Casca stepped back, barely avoiding the rare shards of glass. For a split second, she considered the waste; it was so rare to find glass in buildings not built by nobles. But, the ache of her brand of sacrifice intensified as the apostle grew closer, even as Casca fled backwards from where the bird-like creature fell.

Then, as the first thorny vine wrapped roughly around her arm, she realized why: the roses had come to life. In an instant, she realized she had been tricked. The undead spirits of the woods had not entered the Peacock Apostle’s domain due to a ward, but out of fear for a larger predator, like cheetahs fleeing before a lion.

“Casca!” Puck cried, fluttering down to her side.

The woman quickly cut herself free before edging backwards, glaring. “Where’s Guts?” she asked as the elf doused her in shimmering healing powder.

“Up there!”

Sure enough, Puck pointed to where Guts glared down at the rising Peacock Apostle. She looked like the cruel mix of a harpy and a centaur, a deformed bird-woman’s body on top of the fierce peacock’s bottom.

“It’s too late to reunite!” the apostle screeched, diving right for Guts.

He held his sword out, edge towards her. It would have impaled her if she hadn’t run one of her feet upon it to angle it down. Sure, it cost her a claw, but she had a whole good foot left and she could reattach it later, after she killed these two!

Pressing to the side, Guts let the apostle thrash inside her now ruined library.

The Peacock Apostle flapped a wing towards the swordsman, battering him against broken bookshelves. “How lovely you two are! How tragic is your coupling! Surely, surely, Slan will adore the misery I cause upon the two of you! The delicate anguish of each of you dying so close to one another, unable to help one another!” Her laugh sounded like a rabbit being strangled, high pitched and unsettling.

Below where Guts and the Peacock Apostle tangoed, Casca fended off the rose pseudo-apostles with much struggle. There were simply too many tendrils, each bashing into her in turn to bloody and bruise her. She stepped back, losing ground the whole while even as she hacked off pieces of them.

“I’ve gotta fall back,” she realized. Frowning, she turned heel as the opportunity presented itself.

The roses, drawn to Casca’s brand of sacrifice like hellish newborn pups, blind yet seeking the scent of sustenance, wiggled their way out of being rooted into the ground and crawled like a mass of serpents after her.

“What’re you doing?!” Puck demanded.

Climbing the steps of the building, Casca panted out an answer: “Teaming up with Guts.”

With Guts and the Peacock Apostle, the fight had gone through the third floor and onto the roof. Guts wheezed. Now that she’d regained aerial movement, the Peacock Apostle was even harder to hit. He had to wait for her to come down to take potshots at him, but each one risked her picking him up or knocking him closer to the edge. He couldn’t risk a fall here; landing would break a leg or arm, or perhaps even his neck!

“Guts!”

He looked back when he heard Casca and Puck climb onto the roof and call for him, and that was all the distraction the Peacock Apostle needed. She sank her claws into his back, piercing his armor. As Guts fell to a knee in anguish, Casca rushed forward and cut off one of the Peacock Apostle’s legs.

“Such beautiful desperation!” the demon cackled.

“Guts, I need you to throw me to her!” Casca said quickly, knowing they were short on time.

“Are you crazy?!” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“You’ve gotta dive down into the pond after. Just trust me.”

He looked her over, just a few seconds, before grunting and giving in. He grabbed her by the arm, spinning to fling her at the Peacock Apostle before running to the edge of the roof and diving into the pool. “THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I’VE HAD TO GO SWIMMING IN MY ARMOR BECAUSE OF YOU!”

Puck followed after Guts, though he declined to go splashing into the pond.

With her remaining, though still mutilated foot, the Peacock Apostle caught Casca. “Sparing your lover?” she taunted. “How sweet. But, once I’ve torn you apart, I’ll get him. Don’t worry. You two can be together forever… inside my bel--”

The rose pseudo-apostles which had followed Casca to the roof spiraled up like cruel coils. They were mindless, so focused on reaching the nearest thing with a brand of sacrifice that they swarmed even their mistress. The Peacock Apostle screeched, her body punctured and wings bound by her own underlings.

Together, Casca and the demon fell.

Guts broke the water, screaming in worry. “CASCA!” Swimming desperately, he reached the edge of the pond and hauled himself out. He landed by his wife, patting her cheek. She was wrapped in a few vines of the roses, but was not too close to the main struggle.

The Peacock Apostle struggled against her own confused underlings, which began to release her as the brand of sacrifices moved away from her.

Guts slapped Casca’s cheek, desperate to rouse her. “Casca! Damn you, wake up!”

“Nnh… My… Fuck, my shoulder.”

Relief washed over Guts. He took off his cape, as he had done before and felt, suddenly, as he would do many more times. Placing it over her, Guts looked to Puck. “Keep an eye on her.” Standing before his bride, Guts readied his sword for assault against the remaining rose pseudo-apostles and the now grounded, one legged Peacock Apostle.

Though a few of the rose vines whipped at him, ripping his flesh and bloodying him, Guts didn’t falter in his walk. He swung his sword, chopping them to bits. He Peacock Apostle glowered, trying to right himself before deciding to just brandish her remaining foot intimidatingly. Her wings were useless. She could not stand. She could only wait for death to approach her.

A grim expression fell over Guts’s face. Singular in focus, he dispatched the rose pseudo-apostles. Slick with blood, sweat, and the plant-gore of the underlings, he walked over to the Peacock Apostle. Desperate, she struck out at him with her remaining leg.

He cut it off before she could touch him.

“Damn you!” she screeched. “I hate love! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! It’s a distraction! You don’t appreciate art or real talent! You’re just some bastard swinging your sword because your woman got hurt!” The Peacock Apostle looked towards the fiery torches lining her ruined garden. “Slan! Slan! Give me strength!”

Guts held out the behelit. “What? You wanna use this?” He placed a foot down on the apostle’s chest. He stomped and felt satisfaction at the sickening crack. He grinned like a madman when he saw her begin to cough and wheeze on her own blood. “Fuck you.” He stomped again, and again. He kept stomping until the apostle was convulsing in pain. “You listen here, and you listen good.” He leaned down, weight of his boot still upon the apostle’s broken chest. “You freaks hurt her once. Hurt me once. All of my friends. But let me make this clear: That. Was. A. Fluke. I was distracted.” He cackled.

This was sick, that he was taking so much pleasure in hurting his enemy. Sure, he’d preferred battle before, but that had been because he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Battle had been all he’d known, it felt secure and right.

This, though, was a dark delight. The same voice that cautioned him when he thought of waiting to get intimacy from Casca again piped up. _**"****Make her suffer. Quash her. Send a message. Do evil unto evil!”**_

And, he did.

Terrified, Puck watched in still silence as Guts did not use his sword to dispatch the demon. Instead, he stomped on it, giddy, until the top of the corpse was no longer recognizable as humanoid. And, then it transformed back into the mangled body of a woman, and he walked back over with the gore still stuck against his heel.

Like a switch, the manic pleasure he’d taken in punishing the apostle changed into worry for his lover. “How is she?”

“She’s doing alright. The bleeding on her chest stopped, and the shoulder’s okay. She just needs to rest.”

The sun began to peak over the horizon as Guts fell to his knees again. “Good. I… just, good.” He breathed out of his nostrils, a deep heavy sigh.

Casca’s eyes fluttered open as she looked up at him, backlit by the pale blues of the coming dawn. “Guts…? Did we win…?”

“Oh yeah.” He smiled, taking her hand. “We’re gonna take a nice long rest. I saw a plush ass bed up there. You ever been on a real duvet? I ain’t, but I’m itchin’ to try it.”

Smiling tiredly herself, Casca nodded in agreement. She watched as Puck danced around Guts, healing him, too. “… I’m sorry I traded away your engagement gift for nothing.”

“Eh, we’ll get it back when we loot the place before bailing tonight.” He grinned toothily before tilting his head. “Don’t trade it again, though. Makes me feel like you regret bein’ with me.”

She squeezed his hand. “Never. You know I traded it so she’d remove your brand first, right? The blood on the roses was supposed to cover me.” She laughed bitterly.

He paused, eyes widening. She’d taken care of him first? Reaching down, Guts hesitated. He’d only carried her like this once. “Can I…?”

Casca considered it. She frowned, looked at him, and then looked away. It was Guts.

It was fine if it was him.

“Okay.”

Smoothly, Guts scooped Casca up into a bridal carry. Together, the exhausted couple made their way up to the battered bedroom of the now deceased owner of the house.

“… They’re both crazy,” Puck mumbled as he watched them sleep, a pillow between them in their sleep.

* * *

“Good haul,” Casca noted, looking over some of their new equipment. Better boots for both of them, a fresh, clean set of clothes along with some spares put into their bags. And, their bags! What a wonderful new haul!

“Wish we could at least keep a donkey or something,” Guts lamented. He did rather like the extra daggers they’d picked up, as well as the extremely nice meal they’d blown the last of their ill gotten profits on.

Casca nodded. “I know! But, it’ll get possessed...” She sighed.

Guts grinned over at her. It was cute when she pouted over little issues. “… Lemme see you wearing the necklace again.”

Raising a brow, Casca drew the seagrass corded oyster shell out from her shirt.

The man nodded. “Looks good.”

“What about MEEEEEE?” Puck poked his head out of the little holster on Casca’s hip he rode around in. Being interested in practicality, Guts and Casca had only taken the behelit, some loose coinage from around the house, and a few pieces of jewelry Puck had whined for. He was presently sporting a slender ring as a belt and one with a large jewel on it as a crown.

“You look ridiculous,” Guts deadpanned.

Puck went pale and then red with fury. “That’s no way to talk to your healer!”

Guts clicked his tongue as if scoffing. “Let’s head out before it gets dark.”

Casca giggled, following behind her husband.

“Hey! Hey! I’m talking to you! … YOU’RE NOT EVEN LISTENING! I SAID: I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

“You know, if that apostle could really heal, then that means healing magic exists.” Casca tilted her head. “… We just need to find a way to do it on our own.”

Guts looked over at her. “… Yeah.” But, for now, they were just stuck wandering aimlessly. It was too soon to go back to Godot’s.


	7. (Mother) VS Father [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got a new video game that I'm really into! As you can see, the series is so far diverging very much so from canon, but don't worry! After this and maybe another chapter, we'll see our first canon enemy: Rosine!!
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and I hope Isidro's introductory chapter is enjoyable!

News spread throughout Midland of the failing health of the king. This bothered neither Guts nor Casca, and Puck didn’t have enough investment in the general human realm to get overly bothered by this news. The husband and wife had lost aplenty due to the wretched royal; forgetting their so-called traitorous friend’s suffering, their other friends had been forced to live on scraps and the edge of society after shedding so much blood and sweat winning a war for him.

If the enemies that the Band of the Hawk had kept at bay through shows of strength took the disappearance of the group along with the king’s failing health as an invitation to invade, it was no skin off their noses. Godot, Erica, and Rickert were high enough in the mountains to be of no consideration for raids. And, only a fool would attack the hundred man slayer and the last commander of the Hawks.

On top of the lingering grudges against the king and their incredible disinterest in Midland’s political standing on the world stage, the two also had the much higher priority issue of their empty coin purse.

“We don’t have any more rings to try pawning off somewhere?” Guts double checked.

Casca shook her head. “No, trust me.” She swung her sword haphazardly, cutting down a night spirit. “I’ve already checked Puck’s bed--”

“HEY! THAT’S PRIVATE!” the elf whined from where he hid from the fighting.

“--and he really did give us the last of it.”

Guts sprinted forward, bringing his sword down on the head of a possessed boar. He followed through with slicing a stag in half, grunting as he noted that the meat would likely be too spoiled by the taint of evil to eat by morning. That sucked. He really liked venison.

“Well, we’re gonna need to stop for maintenance again soon, and then there’s the issue of food. We can’t keep goin’ on berries and shit.” Guts wiped his brow, appreciating a brief lapse in their night attacks. In about an hour, another wave would come. But, for now, they could relax.

“Back in town,” she began, jerking a thumb towards the outpost on the edge of the woods they’d taken refuge in for the night, “there were some wanted posters. We could go back and check those out tomorrow.”

“Wanted people bringing in bounties?” Guts asked, scoffing.

“Well, obviously, I can’t check it,” Casca said, gesturing to herself. “I sort of stand out from everyone else. If there’s still a bounty out for the Band of the Hawk, I’ll get got. But, you weren’t with us when things went sour—if no one saw you when we rescued Griffith, we might be able to use you as our in-town person.”

Guts grunted. He hummed. He then sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah, sure, sounds right.” He scratched the back of his head. “Geez, you still act like a commander.”

“And, you still act like the most reliable swordsman in the world.” She giggled when he looked back, clearly flustered at her compliment.

* * *

It was a small band of mercenaries without a real title to call themselves. No one ever asked for them, anyways. They earned their food by hunting down bounties and taking care of small requests from local villages, occasionally acting as bandits along the border routes. Peace meant lean times for mercenaries.

But, that was changing. With the king’s failing health, a boon was promised for the band. They only had to live through it. Soon, the land would run red with blood and the sky would be filled with wails of anguish, and the dogs of war would dig into the fat of that profitable venture.

War was misery, but it paid well.

“Isidro!” one of the older men snapped, not taking his eyes off the entrance to the crumbling castle some two hundred yards ahead of his crew. When there was no response, he called again: “ISIDRO!”

“Here, sir!” A youth scrambled forward, presenting a rarity to the leader of the dozen man band without prompting. It was an eyeglass about the length of the boy’s forearm. In a year or two, he might grow into a lanky young teen, but for now, he was an incredibly scrappy child. He had not quite taken on slender and young adult proportions, being blatantly kiddish in demeanor and appearance.

Or, as childish as a lifelong mercenary got. Even the children of killers were vicious.

The one who had asked Isidro for the hand telescope didn’t express a shred of gratitude, merely looking into the crumbling castle’s doorways and windows. “Nary a sight of the beastie...”

“You’d think it’d linger far deeper in there,” one of the older warriors suggested.

“Perhaps.”

The little no name band of mercenaries was currently some miles beyond the town that Guts was currently looking for work in. They had already found one of the assignments—the townsfolk swore there was a minotaur or some such outside of the city, lurking in an ancient castle that had been lost to the forest. Plague was the reason why it was abandoned, as well as with some riches hidden in chests that supposedly only a select few families back in the town had the keys for.

It had good pay and the mercenaries doubted very highly that a real minotaur was within, so it was an ideal mission.

“S’probably just some bastard with a cow’s head scarin’ away the townsfolk until he can bust open whatever chests or safe are keepin’ the goods stowed away.”

Isidro looked over. Maybe that’s all it was. But, as he spotted the now half-rotted gore of previous attempts to enter the castle propped against one of the entryways, he somehow doubted that. He held his little dagger closer.

Another year, and they would pay him for his service with a sword and gear of his own. He just had to survive the year.

* * *

With their new goal in mind, Guts and Casca headed deeper into the woods. The ragged trail leading up to the castle was hauntingly barren and even as the sun set, only a few spirits jumped immediately out to them.

“It really is ancient,” Casca noted.

Puck kicked his feet back and forth. He rode on Casca’s shoulder, munching on a rare wild blackberry he’d found. “You know, winter’s coming soon. Maybe you two should try holing up here after you take back the stuff.”

“No, we can’t stop until we find a way to fix the brands.” Guts cut down a spirit as it flew towards them.

Puck huffed as he licked his fingers. “How’re you gonna get anything fixed if you starve to death...”

“I could always eat you as a last resort,” Guts flatly said.

Puck whimpered.

“Don’t worry,” Casca said, laughing a bit. “He wouldn’t eat you. Right, Guts?”

He only grunted in response. He held his arm out as they neared the castle grounds, having spotted the other mercenary group. “Stay behind me.”

Being that Casca had more good sense than interest in getting into needless scraps, she listened to Guts. She very nearly hid in the fluttering of his long cape. For a brief moment, she was merely his shadow, walking with him through the tiny encampment of mercenaries outside the grand castle.

But, they addressed her with whistles.

“Oh, takin’ your whore in with you?”

The sound of Guts’s tightened grip on his sword was audible, but Casca merely put a hand to the small of his back to urge him in faster. The sun was setting. They didn’t have time for this.

One of the strangers stood, swaggering over. “Oh, ya deaf? She’s there to help ya hear? Tell ya what, why don’t you--”

A desperate, bony hand gripped the man’s ankle. The sun dipped past the horizon finally. The resentful dead rose. Guts and Casca at once stood back to back as the dozens slain by the minotaur returned to life, urged on by their now bleeding brands of sacrifice.

“WHAT THE HELL!”

The scene turned to chaos. Violence. Men being dragged down and torn open as skeletons and half rotted bodies tried in a sad, angry attempt to restore their stolen lives. Isidro scampered into the castle through a window, hunkering against the cold, mossy stone walls. Guts and Casca entered after hacking over a dozen bodies down.

The tiny mercenary band was nothing more than added flesh to the confusing heap of corpses that littered the entry into the minotaur’s castle labyrinth.

* * *

Some time passed. For Guts and Casca, this time was spent with Guts resorting to using his daggers in the narrow castle corridors and Casca marking their trail with macabre yet effective signs: the crude, rough rubbing of old, dry bones against the walls with directional markers for the exit served as a flash of light in this otherwise dim maze. Puck even noted her cleverness.

But, for Isidro, it was nothing but sweat, fear, and panic.

Desperately, the youth ran. His heart was rabbit fast and his feet fleeter than a fox’s. Around corners, up flights of stairs, down long forgotten and cobweb riddled servants’ ways. Small and smaller passages he found, where the stench of death did not linger and whatever spirits roamed outside could not have ever entered in life and thus did not think to visit in death.

And, there, at the depths of the castle, overlooking the sole room with light—a facsimile of the sun, of safety—he hunkered and hid. He scarcely breathed when he saw what was below him. It was the minotaur.

He wished harder than ever before that the band had never agreed to go on this mission.

* * *

“This place is nicer,” Guts said.

Casca, taken off guard, looked over in confusion. “We just got attacked by a giant centipede,” she said, gesturing to where her sword was dented. That fiendish beast had likely been feeding on corpses, soaking up the minotaur’s unholy energy and converting into a true monster itself. “This place is horrible.”

“The windows are narrow. You’d have to be a page’s size or smaller to fit through them. We could put some shutters on to fix that. There’s probably a big roof. We could grow crops. Set some traps and live off that.” Guts lingered in a door frame, imagining it in a better time. He grinned. “Puck, this could be your room.”

Puck fluttered over and frowned. “There’s a tree growing through the floor.”

“Don’t fairies like nature?”

Ignoring Guts’s rudeness, Puck settled back on top of Casca’s head. “What’s with you suddenly thinking about places to live, anyways? Weren’t you saying you couldn’t even go back to Gal Got or whoever until you got rid of your brands of sacrifice?”

“Godot,” Casca corrected.

Guts shrugged before throwing a dagger into the head of a previously gored cadaver. “One day, Erica or Rickert’s gonna have a family, right? Can’t live in their home forever.”

While his wife shot him a suspicious look, Guts held up a hand.

“Fire ahead.”

Casca pressed her lips thin and got out her sword. “You strike once, startle it. I’ll see what I can do to disarm it for you.”

“If it looks at you, don’t engage,” Guts said back.

“Only because that’ll give you an opening.”

With their plan clarified, Guts took a second to double check the opening of the room. It was wider. Taller. He couldn’t see around the corner to check where the minotaur was, so he was going to have to rush in and bank on his excellent reflexes. He rolled his shoulders, unsheathed his sword, and took off.

The minotaur rounded in an instant to face him. Undeterred, the man dodged just barely to the left as the minotaur swiped with its horn. An ugly, jagged rip went along his ribs, but didn’t pierce beyond his armor. He took the opportunity to swing low, catching the back of the minotaur’s thighs.

In the first attack, the beast was hamstrung. As it tumbled to the side, Guts could already see the wound beginning to heal. Curse the natural healing ability of apostles! But, with the minotaur’s focus on him and the beast down on the ground, that gave Casca the perfect opening.

“Hrauh!” With perfect accuracy, she skewered the tip of her more traditionally sized blade through the minotaur’s left eye. She took it, jumped back, and slid it off the tip of her sword with the toe of her boot, crushing it in one smooth action.

The minotaur screamed as it stood. “YOU BITCH!” It snorted, running for Casca as she ducked just barely under its deadly horns. “I’ll gore you! I’ll smash you to pieces!”

“Careful how you talk to my commander,” Guts growled, following behind to drive his sword through the minotaur. The blade went through cleanly and the minotaur coughed blood. “I’m sorta protective of her.”

Casca scrambled out from under the beast as it turned to face Guts, ripping the sword from his hands. With the weapon still inside the beast, it laughed.

“You think that’s gonna take me down?” The minotaur bellowed. “I plan on surpassing Nosferatu Zodd.” It pulled Guts’s sword out slowly. “You’re just another step towards my goal.” With that, it charged.

Guts threw up both hands. Though disarmed, he was by no means now powerless. Grunting, he was forced back several yards, back against the wall as his muscles flexed to keep the minotaur from goring him properly.

“Guts!” Casca rushed in, hacking at the minotaur’s legs to rescue her husband.

“Get back!” the man roared even as the minotaur briefly collapsed. Grunting with effort, Guts forced the minotaur to not turn around by keeping his grasp on its horns so Casca would not face its fury.

Casca swung her sword again. “You can’t beat it on your own right now!” Her strike connected with the minotaur’s leg again, laming it.

However, it broke free of Guts’s grasp and thrashed him away before stumbling towards Casca on all three limbs. “I’ll eat you alive…!”

A sudden weight landed on the minotaur’s back. It bellowed in pain as the sword piercing it was pulled out. It coughed blood again. Casca, seeing the opportunity granted to her by the interloper, swung her sword once more, blinding the minotaur.

As the little boy dropped his sword, Guts came over to reclaim it. Silently, he swung it, beheading the raging minotaur.

“Sh… Shit… That was too…!” Dropping to his knees, the man shut his eyes with pain.

“Guts!” Casca rushed over.

Puck fluttered out of a pocket now that the fighting was over. The fairy frowned, seeing no injury. “Must have busted a rib…!”

“I’ve got some water, here, quickly, open your mouth, we’ll get powder in you and then wash it down. Puck, please! And, Guts, open your mouth!!” Casca worried in a hurry.

The youth, meanwhile, looked over at the fallen minotaur. To his horror, he saw it transform back into the body of a human man. Powerfully robust, yes, but still very human. He trembled in terror.

That was when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Looking up, Isidro felt himself calm. The strange woman had given the even stranger man some sort of… Yeah. Fairy. Fairy dust. She’d given him fairy dust. So, Isidro felt as if he could tell her the truth. “No.”

She sighed. “… Why don’t you head back into town with us? We’re going to collect the reward money.” She stood, moving back over to attend to Guts as the magical healing began to work on his body. “Why don’t you find something that’ll make it obvious we slayed the beast?”

Looting a dead body? He’d done worse things. Isidro nodded before moving over to the body and beginning to look it over. What would work…?

“We’re not taking him along with us,” Guts finally said as the paid subsided enough for him to speak.

“How else will he get back?” Casca asked, beginning to make camp. This was as good a place as any.

“That’s his problem,” the man gruffed.

Rolling her eyes, Casca lifted Guts’s head to put a pillow under it before leaving the blanket for their new friend. “We’ll leave him in town. How about that?”

Watching Casca go give Isidro approval for taking back the belt the former apostle wore as proof. And, as she told the youth he could take the blanket for warmth while she and Guts slept together to keep each other warm—a welcome update for Guts—he could have sworn he saw the malformed shape of their son in the flames.

But, it left as quickly as it arrived.

* * *

It was mid-morning before the party awoke after their night adventure. Casca and Guts silently came to an understanding that their sleep schedule would be ruined for the next little bit. They set off for down and found that Isidro was much chattier after a night of sleep.

“--it’s kind of a bummer that I didn’t even get my pay for working for those guys,” he noted. “I’ve been with ‘em for so long, and I was supposed to get a sword for my thirteenth birthday!”

“Wait,” Guts said. “You know your birthday?” He looked to Casca. “People know that? I thought that was, like, a weird noble celebration thing.”

“Guts, everybody has a birthday,” she said. “I mean, no one really celebrates it after you, uh, develop fully, but…” She cocked her head. “… Did you not celebrate your birthday as a child?”

“I never saw you celebrate yours when we were teens,” he pointed out.

“I lost track of the time. But, I know when my birthday is.”

“...” Guts looked over to Isidro. “… When’s yours?”

“Why? You gonna give me a sword?” Isidro shot back.

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be so stingy on someone’s birthday!” Puck said.

“Do you know when your birthday is?” Guts asked the elf.

“Eh? What? No.” Puck shrugged. “It’s been hundreds of years… Who cares any more.”

Guts frowned. He didn’t have the slightest idea of his birthday. He wasn’t even really sure what time of year he was born.

Casca, spotting his sudden introspective mood, sighed and reached over to grab his hand. “How about this: I remember you talking with me once, back during one of our winter training sessions, that you picked up a sword when you took your first steps. You said that the cold felt familiar.” Casca squeezed his hands. “Kids learn to walk before they’re a year old, so you were probably born in late winter.” She smiled up at him. “Let’s celebrate your birthday when the first flowers poke through the snow! The end of winter!”

Silence fell over Guts before he just smiled back. “I’d like that.”

Isidro had watched all of this with the sort of thin patience typical of children watching older relatives flirt. “… Anyways, if you two are mercenaries and not some lovey dovey couple, I could start working with you guys.”

“No thanks,” Guts quickly said, shifting back into his gruff persona. “We’re not a mercenary band.”

“But, didn’t you two used to be apart of one?” Puck asked. “You call Casca your commander, and--!”

Guts squeezed Puck like a squeaky toy.

“Oooh? Did you two get kicked out?” Isidro inquired.

“No,” Casca said, taking on a sombre tone. “There’s only three of us left from our old band anymore.”

“Really? What was your old band?”

The woman looked back. From the slight uptick of her brows to the way Guts froze as she answered, it was clear the subject was still sore and burdensome for the both of them. Still, she answered, tears welling up even as she remembered their old allies. The tears were bitter as she recalled their traitorous leader.

“The Band of the Hawk.”


End file.
